Salt Water is Like Wine
by foreignkeylookup
Summary: "There's something about Brittany that makes her feel like she's being split right down the middle, so what's about to happen is only fitting." This is some straight up smut. Some might call it a one-shot. But since it's Brittana, I call it a two-shot.


Rating: NC-17

This story is about fisting. If you can't handle that, you should turn around.

* * *

There's something about Brittany that makes her feel like she's being split right down the middle, so what's about to happen is only fitting.

_And you'll tell me? If it hurts?_

Santana knows it's going to hurt. Ever since she and Britt talked about it, at first jokingly - like they had to level up, from scissoring, to strap-ons - and now this, she's known: it's going to hurt. Most good sex hurts. One night, with three fingers inside and Santana trying to swallow all the noise she wanted to make, Britt's eyes dropped. _I think you can, I think you can do more. I want - I want to feel all of you. _Santana reached out, touched her face and exhaled three yeses before shutting her eyes and splintering.

What Santana doesn't like is the word for what they're about to do, doesn't want to say it out loud, doesn't want to even think it. She's renamed it: "taking all of you" or "your whole hand". Anything but...Jesus. _Fisting._

Fuck. It sounds so violent. But really, it's just a thumb and a few knuckles removed from what she and Brittany do all the time. No, a thumb, a few knuckles - and a pinky.

_I'll tell you, Britt._

They start by kissing. Brittany lays her out on the bed, and rests on top of her. For good long moments, Santana marvels that Brittany is the smallest person she's ever kissed, but feels the biggest. When they're kissing like this, with Brittany on top, Santana feels gloriously weighed down. Safe. Inside each of their stomachs, just under their ribcages, the kisses rotate a pulley system, heavy and slow.

As everything pulls into place, the ropes tighten and vibrate, until everything has settled. Santana still feels safe, but that's what Brittany has always tried to give her: the safety to roll their bodies together _and like it_. And it's strange how, how – _desire_ – can feel so safe when it always felt so scary before.

Everything tightens and Santana feels that. Brittany's body traps her and Santana feels that. But instead of feeling like it's too much and she needs to run away, she feels like it's too much and she'll stay right here, because it's perfect.

She sends her hands along Brittany's body, since Brittany is occupied holding herself up. She sends them through Brittany's hair, along her back, across the waves of her hips, her butt. She edges them under Brittany's shirt, where her skin is hot and soft. She holds her by the torso and feels her ribcage billow with her breath and then deflate. All the time, she is kissing Brittany, sucking on her lips, and stroking the tips of their tongues together.

Her skin starts to prickle.

They take each other's clothes off. Santana peels off Brittany's tall socks, letting Brittany giggle when she places a kiss to each shin. Brittany pushes Santana on her back to repeat the same thing, but after removing both socks, seems to get distracted by the sight of Santana looking at her in a bra and panties. She rolls them both over so Santana is on top.

One kiss to her breast, where the dark of her areola meets her skin. She doesn't feel the skin crinkle - not exactly, though she knows that is what is happening. What she feels instead is another rope cast around her skeleton, wrapping around her tailbone. She arches and gasps as it tightens. Brittany has her. They roll back over and Brittany arranges her legs so that she can sit between them, can look at the place where Santana's thighs meet. Brittany rolls her underwear off, and Santana notices, acutely, the way she feels sticky, the way she feels hot, the way she wants Brittany to touch her, to be inside her, to never ever stop. Maybe it used to be that she'd want to hide all that wetness, but tonight, she spreads her legs an inch further. She wants Brittany to see: _This is what you do to me. This is how you make me feel._

Maybe on another night, Brittany would tease her, or go straight to touching, but tonight Brittany just pauses. She slides her hands up the skin of Santana's inner thighs and brushes her thumbs along the wiry hair she finds at the top.

_You are so beautiful, Santana._

Santana's toes curl.

When Brittany starts touching her for real, she can tell - she's nervous. They both are. Brittany's perceptive, but she's not psychic, and Santana can tell she wants to make this good for her. To reassure her, Santana tries to talk but all that comes out are moans and some _Feels so good, Britt_s. It seems to work though because every time she makes a noise, Brittany bites her lip a little less.

The first finger she slides inside brings Santana back to what's happening tonight. But whatever nerves Brittany had seem to disappear then too, she curls her finger inside Santana and hums. Brittany adds another finger. Then another.

When she gets close to coming, Santana tries to stop Brittany with a _I'm too close, I'm too close_ but Brittany shushes her: _Let me take care of you. Just - just feel good, okay?_ And because she's that close, Santana does. She lets the wave of it crash over her, she rocks up and then down, she feels her body squeeze around Brittany's fingers - and it feels good, it does. She lets herself feel it, feel good, feel _Brittany_.

When she floats back to her body, Brittany is still inside her, looking at her with her mouth open and her eyes soft. She strokes the crease of Santana's hip with her other hand. _Amazing, _she says. _You're amazing. So beautiful._ She bites her lip. _Do you still want to -_

Santana nods.

_Okay. Okay, good. Because you are so, so beautiful, and I want to - to see you do that again. And I know you can do it, I know you can. _She starts flexing her arm and before long, Santana is breathing hard again. She barely even notices it when Brittany adds the fourth finger. She just feels wet and good and safe. Wherever she's going - Brittany will get her there. At some point, she notices Brittany reach over to the bedside table and grab the bottle of lube. It feels cold against her at first, but heats up as Brittany keeps fucking her, nice and slow and wide.

_Okay, Santana. I'm going to do it. I know you can - can do it, can take my hand, I know you can. It's going to hurt but you can do it. I'm right here._

Santana holds on to that - Brittany knows she can do it - and tries to breath evenly. When it comes, Brittany's hand stretches her, it burns her. Her heels dig into the mattress and she fights every instinct in her body to arch her back, to roll away, because it hurts. It does hurt. It really hurts. But bigger than the pain is Brittany's soft voice, washing over her. _Oh honey, oh sweetheart, I know, you're doing so good, you're so brave, I love you, I love you, I love you..._She holds on to that patter, it buoys her through it. Brittany says she can do it, so she can. Brittany loves her, so she can. She's doing good. She's doing _good. _

_That's it, honey. You did it. _And it's true. It is over. The worst of the pain is gone and instead, she feels so, so full. Her left hand covers her mouth as she breaths out exactly one choking sob, and her right goes to Brittany's shoulder. "Are you okay?" Brittany asks, like she's scared she read Santana's body wrong, like she's hurting her. _Yes,_ Santana says, pulling Brittany to her mouth, _just kiss me, please just kiss me._

Brittany doesn't have to move her hand, just lets it anchor Santana to the bed. Sometimes she flutters her fingers against her palm, and even that is enough to make Santana moan and whimper. Brittany sits back and looks at her. _Wow. Look at you._ Santana blushes, and closes her eyes, but Brittany strokes her stomach and says, _No, really. Look, Santana._Santana looks down. Her skin is flushed and dusky, but most stunningly, all she can see is Brittany's right wrist as it disappears inside of her. _You are so amazing, Santana. You can take so much of me. We are so, so beautiful together._

Brittany keeps eye contact with her and sucks slowly on the two fingers of her left hand. She place them on Santana's clit and starts making slow, soft circles.

It's not like any orgasm she's ever had. It doesn't feel like she has to get there, there's no edge to it. She doesn't feel the build up that she usually does. She doesn't need Brittany to go any faster than she's going. She just needs her hand, all of her, inside and those slow, soft circles, until - until -

Every piece of her consciousness shrinks down to the clench of her muscles around Brittany's fist inside of her, and then shatters free.

When everything slows and it feels like the last drop of it has been wrung from her, Brittany slides her hand out, and immediately wraps her up, saying, _I love you, I love you, I do, I love you, Santana._ Inside her, then outside her, Brittany surrounds her, rocks her back and forth. _You're beautiful, you're amazing._ Santana's eyes prick with tears. _Oh, honey, honey, I've got you._

_Sorry, sorry, that was just - intense. Really intense. Good but intense._

_Don't be sorry. I've got you._

Santana turns her head into Brittany's chest, and lets herself be held.


End file.
